


Traitor

by DreamersAndThieves



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Gen, Mild Gore, ya know just trees trying to kill someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3631362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamersAndThieves/pseuds/DreamersAndThieves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night horrors go after Lynch, but the whole forest goes after Kavinsky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traitor

**Author's Note:**

> So, I really suck at describing stuff. But I promise the story is better than the description.

Cabeswater paints him red, it paints him as an impostor. He is not the magician or the beloved greywaren. He would never be them. He did not want to be seen as an angel in the mind of this…this thing. It screams at him every time catapults into it.

_“Dimitto!”_ The forest screams, thousands of voices scream at him as he tears through the undergrowth. Leave. But he won’t leave until he finds what he wants, not until he had ransacked the place, until he drained the forest of its energy again. _“Dimitto, proditor!”_

_Leave, traitor!_

After this, it always sends those horrible creatures. He always runs from them. They are monsters. Just like the boy himself, but they would stop for nothing, they would kill without a second thought. Those monsters rip and tear at the boy’s skin with their teeth, talons and claws. Growls and human screams mix, they fill the air with their horrible noise. The monsters tear the boy to shreds. His blood turns the grass red. Even what was once his, reaches up to grab him. The blood sticks to his skin, it holds him in place. It holds him there while his monsters and his mind devour him.

_“Et nos respondimus tibi dimitto.”_

The beasts split the boy open, they tear at his organs. He screams in agony. One of the more human looking ones reaches into the shallow cavity of his chest and pulls from him a heart. His heart. That disgusting cluster of muscle that kept him alive. It still spasmed and shuddered with its last few beats, pumping what little blood was still in it onto the boy, himself. His breath rattled in his chest as he stared up at the horrible creature that tore him to fragments of what he was supposed to be.

That devil standing above him started to transform as he took his last breath. It was surprising that he hadn’t died already, he already lost so much blood. He lost so much. He had lost his mind. The thing above him turned from one monster to the other, it turned into a boy. The fucker who lead him here. Its icy eyes stared down at him, cold and unforgiving.

Ronan’s hands were covered in his blood, they held his heart. Squeezing the life out of it, even though it was already dead. Without taking his eyes off the dying boy, Ronan lifted the organ to his lips. He began to devour it just like the other creatures did to his body. Coloring his lips a bright crimson, it was a horrible comparison to the paleness of his skin.

“There was never going to be you and me.”

Black crept into his vision, and slowly, agonizingly slowly, he began to fade. The boy heard Ronan cackling maniacally over him. It was a horrible sound, it was like that godforsaken raven. It was the last noise he heard in that dream. It was the last noise he ever heard.

* * *

 

Kavinsky woke with a horrible ache in his chest. It felt like he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move. Everything hurt. He knew his eyes were open, but he couldn’t see anything. He could hear muted voices all around him. Someone was shaking his shoulders, at least he could feel.

“Kavinsky! Hey, wake the fuck up!”

His voice wouldn’t work. Vision was coming back now, in black and white first, then in color. Everyone was gathered around. Four total. One was pacing, shouting into a phone at his ear. Two were by the door and the last was the one shaking him. They looked worried.

_They couldn’t look worried. He was already dead._

_Already dead._

_Dead._

Something hard came down on his chest, it felt like a sledgehammer to the head. Kavinsky shudders and coughs hard while someone pulls him into a sitting position. There’s blood on his lips, tastes like copper.

_Eyes on me._

_All their eyes on me._

_They all look shocked._

“Man, you were dead. You didn’t have a heartbeat.”

“Call fucking 911 next time,” Kavinsky rasps out, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe the blood off. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated. He was shaking from the effort of it.

“We were.”

“Get the fuck out.” Kavinsky snaps, shoving Proko’s hands off. They open their mouths to protest. They never listen. “GET THE FUCK OUT!”

They leave.

He dies two more times that night.


End file.
